Scenario 13
by Mister Dreadly
Summary: Tyler Kranston cannot sleep. Days bleed into nights, and slowly, it seems that even those closest to him are keeping secrets. What is real, and what is simply an illusion of Tyler's declining physical state? He finds himself at the center of a web of fear. He has to fight back, but to do that, he needs to find the one at the center, the very faceless figure that haunts his mind.


**Author's Ramble:** Well, hello people. I am trying my hand at fan-fiction...kind of. I'm using someone else's monster, which is something I tend not to do. Still, here we are. Slenderman has been something of an enigmatic figure for a long time, ever since his internet inception. Now, I love a good piece of Lovecraftian horror, and in many ways, I suppose that is what marble hornets and its fellow slender series are. They are about an absolute and unknowable force, far beyond the control of those poor souls who find themselves in its company, but you know what? As much as I love it, that has been done to death. I propose a different story. I propose that perhaps, humans are not so helpless as we think. In a world where the rules have changed, so do the players of the game. We are masters of survival, savants of adaption, and if a faceless horror comes for us, we will not sit idly, we will become something far more then it expects.

"**I have heard there are troubles of more than one kind. Some come from ahead and some come from behind. But I've bought a big bat. I'm all ready you see. Now my troubles are going to have troubles with me!" -Dr. Seuss**

"Mr. Kranston..." A hazy recognition of his name passed through Tyler's head. "Mr. Kranston!" Tyler bolted upright, barely avoiding accidentally head-butting his math professor in the face as he did so. She drew back a few inches, looking at him with mixed disapproval and amusement.

"This isn't a kindergarten class." Mrs. Bartley said, her stern tone clashing with the half-smile she was fighting down. "And you are drooling on your desk." Tyler felt his face go red, at about the same moment that what seemed to be the entire class burst out laughing.

"I'm going to need to see you after class." The grey haired professor said, fixing a somewhat more serious expression on him. He nodded mutely, using his shirt-sleeve to mop up the small puddle of drool on the desk.

As he went to check the clock, he caught the eye of his best friend, who was grinning at him. Travis began miming drool coming down the side of his face, and Tyler rolled his eyes and gave him the finger while Mrs. Bartley wasn't looking, then settled back into his seat with a sigh. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered, and Mrs. Bartley looked up at them indignantly.

Apparently the repairmen that the school had been hiring to deal with the lights had failed to solve whatever problem had been causing the constant power fluctuations. Tyler looked over at Travis again. He was about to make some joke under his breath, but stopped when he saw the look on his friend's face. He was looking up at the flickering lights with a look of deep unease on his face.

"Hey, you all right man?" Tyler asked quietly. Travis looked at him and seemed to shake off whatever was worrying him. "Yeah, I'm good man, just wondering why the lights suck so much."

Tyler shrugged. He had been wondering the same thing lately. For the three years he had been going to Hastern University, the electrical system had been fine. He supposed that the building were getting a little old, but still, it had come out of nowhere. Three years, nothing, then about a month into the new semester, boom.

He supposed that that was fine.

"Mr. Kranston!" Tyler jumped, sitting up straighter and looking a bit guilty. "Since you seem to be drifting off again, why don't you demonstrate the next problem for us?"

Tyler groaned internally. This wasn't going to work out well... He glanced down at his notebook, which contained one, half finished math problem, and a doodle of a T-Rex eating an astronaut.

"Sorry, which problem?" he asked, buying himself some time.

"Number eighteen." Came the reply, sounding a bit testy.

He looked down at the problem in the book. Whoever mixed letters and numbers in math should have been beaten to death with a math textbook, he decided.

"Do you factor the um..." He glanced over at Travis who shrugged at him.

Mrs. Barkley shook her head. "Alright, does anyone know how to solve the problem?"

Four hands went up. Most of the former AP Math students from high school. That figured.

Tyler rubbed his eyes. Coffee hardly helped anymore. Pills weren't working. He didn't blame Mrs. Barkley for being annoyed at him, but after nearly a week with only small scattered hours of sleep, Tyler was beginning to have serious problems.

His doctor was puzzled, and Tyler really didn't know what to tell him. No, for the hundredth time, he wasn't under any undue stress, no, he really wasn't using any street drugs, no, for the love of god, he was not drinking too many sugary beverages.

He looked around with his eyes. With his eyes half lidded, the world looked dreary, grayscale. Something caught at the edge of his vision. Startled, Tyler opened his eyes all the way, realizing that he was staring at Travis, who, in turn, was looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

Tyler shook his head, deciding that he needed to sleep, and soon, he was starting to hallucinate.

On the way to the parking lot, Travis caught up with him. "You alright man?" He asked, looking a bit concerned. "You looked kinda freaked out in there."

Tyler massaged one of his temples and shook his head "Nah, I'm just having some trouble sleeping, that's all."

Travis looked at him closely. "How long has that been happening?" He asked, suddenly seeming a lot more serious.

"Eh, maybe a week?" Tyler said with a shrug, glancing up at the worn brick of the main campus building.

Travis nodded. "Ok, well, if you need anything, you know my number." Tyler nodded.

"Thanks." He said, "See you around."

As he started walking away, he could have sworn that he heard Travis mutter something else. He turned back. "Sorry, what'd you say?" He asked.

"Just be careful man. There are some... some weird-ass people around."

Tyler chuckled. "Dude, we live in the Mecca of weird-ass people. You'd have to go to Woodstock or something to find a larger crowd of them."

Travis didn't laugh. "Yeah...well, see ya."

Tyler nodded bemusedly. "Ok, see ya."

He sighed as he climbed into the front seat of his car. What an odd day, he thought. Then, he put the thought out of his mind, popped in a CD to keep him awake, and pulled out of the parking lot. Bed awaited.

As he pulled into the driveway, Tyler turned the music down. He swore loudly. The front door of his house was hanging open. He ran through a mental list of worst-case scenarios, before searching around in the back seat, and grabbing a metal baseball bat. Apparently there were upsides to trying out for sports, even if you weren't picked.

He got out of the car cautiously, walking up to the front window and peering inside. The sitting room beyond was empty, seemingly untouched. He walked slowly towards the door, prodding it farther open with his bat. He stood, shaking with unease and adrenaline.

When he finally plunged around the corner with his bat raised, the lack of any burglars, or, frankly, even anything out of place was rather anticlimactic.

He searched the other rooms of his house, creeping from one to the next, and making threatening motions with his bat whenever he heard a noise. In the end, the house was empty, nothing had been moved, and, when it came right down to it, Tyler was starting to suspect that he might have simply left the door open. It was at this point that he walked back through the sitting room, and noticed a light outside the window. It was faint, and flickering. Fire then?

With the lights on now, it was rather hard to see anything more than a tiny bright spot outside the window.

"No, fuck that." Tyler said to himself. "Not doing it."

He walked over to the door and locked both the knob, and slide locks. He shook his head, he'd seen that one way too many times on horror movies, he was not checking out whatever was going on outside, he was already freaked out enough. He gave one more look through the window, then, securely locked the windows, and headed upstairs to bed.

"Like I didn't have enough problems sleeping." He grumbled, realizing how paranoid what he was doing was, as he locked all the upstairs windows too.

Finally, he sat down on his bed, kicking off his sneakers. "Tomorrow will be less shit." He muttered to himself. He stripped off his shirt and pants, decided against any more bedtime rituals, and flopped down, back-first on the soft mattress, eyes closed, ready for rest.

He felt himself relax, letting the day's pressures fall away. He was drifting, his mind beginning to slow, and then, a small patter, like a large raindrop had fallen in his room.

He groaned. He had been so close to sleep. Was the ceiling leaking?" It seemed unlikely, but...

He opened his eyes, squinting in the dark. He couldn't see much of anything really, with the only light being moonlight from the windows.

He sighed, aggravated, before reaching over and flicking on his bedside lamp.

He stifled a panicked yell. In bright red paint, a large red circle with an X painted though it was drawn on his ceiling. Below the shape was the number 13.


End file.
